


a tribute to all the weathered souls

by soldier-dean (badaltin)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Angst, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:04:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4537308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badaltin/pseuds/soldier-dean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny Lafitte hadn’t realized how empty his house was until Dean moved in. It wasn’t just his stuff taking up space – the drifter hardly owned anything besides his car and what he could fit inside his duffel bag – but it was Dean himself that filled out the house. When he entered a room, he made it about 2000 times warmer, even with just a small, half-assed smile. And when he left, he took the life of the room with him, leaving it even more dull and dingy in his wake. </p>
<p>Though Dean didn’t have many worldly possessions, and most were kept in their room (readily packed and within easy reach in case of a hasty exit), little reminders of his presence made the larger man’s heart flutter. Like when the green-eyed man flung his socks carelessly on the floor after a long day waiting tables, or when he left his toothbrush on the counter in the bathroom. </p>
<p>For the first time in a long time, Benny wasn’t just content – he was happy.</p>
<p>(or that au where benny is a cook in a small fishing town, and dean is a drifter who stays a little longer than he intended.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a tribute to all the weathered souls

The little diner Benny worked at, “Charlie’s”, was a nice establishment. Quiet. The people who came through were almost always locals, never stirred up trouble or expected much from anybody.

He liked cooking food - knew what the customers liked, and what Benny liked was pleasing people.

It was an early summer day that found him clearing off one of the window-side tables when he saw something that didn’t fit into his small-town picture: a sleek black Chevy pulling up to the curb. The thing stuck out like a sore thumb in the lazy town of fishermen, half of which drove dingy yet practical pick-ups. But this Black Beauty shone like a new penny, catching several eyes as she was parked in a recently-vacated spot out front.

A tall, bow-legged man slid out from behind the wheel with unique grace. He grinned wolfishly at a passerby behind him, before pushing open the door with a leather-clad arm.

Benny’s seen his fair share of drifters blow past Charlie’s joint, but this Adonis was totally unprecedented. Most were older men that looked like they lost their spirit somewhere along Route 66 or in a trashy joint stuck firmly in the past, present, and future. This guy, though, smirked like he knew the secrets of the universe – and how to get the most from using them.

He caught Benny’s wandering eye, and winked flirtatiously. The man made his way over to where Charlie was stationed, and they began to talk quietly.

The old cook decided that it was time he returned to work, this green-eyed model be damned. He busied himself with clearing the table, and brought the tray back to the kitchen. Benny quickly yet carefully unloaded the dishes into the sink, worried about the customers’ orders that he’d have to prepare.

The last thing he expected, though, was to see his manager lead Green-Eyes into the room, showing him the aprons. 

“Hey, Benny!” Charlie greeted. “This is Dean, here. I just hired him after Garth’s… resignation.”

“So you started him now? During lunch hour?” The gruff man was not impressed.

Charlie shrugged. “Why not?”

Benny shook his head, and wiped his hands off with a rag. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his new coworker, Dean, tie a navy-colored apron around his middle, and reached for one of the clipboards on the opposite counter.

Dean came up to him, and outstretched his hand. “Winchester. Dean Winchester,” the guy said, eyes shining. “And you?”

Benny huffed in amusement, and shook his hand. “So you didn’t get my name from Charlie’s rushed introduction?”

“Nope.”

“Benny Lafitte, at your service, then.” Benny tipped his cap at Dean, his lip twitching in a grin.

The bell at the door chimed, announcing the arrival of another customer. Dean strode out of the kitchen.

He came back not a minute later, stuffing his clipboard into the front pocket of his apron. “An iced tea to start out with. And would you mind showing me around after work? I did just come here yesterday, y’know.”

Benny took the bait for what it was, and cheekily replied, “The roads aren’t too hard to navigate. Unless y’have a poor sense of direction?”

As Dean reached for the cool drink Benny handed him, their fingers brushed and Dean’s smirk molded into one befitting a shark. “’Just wanted the expertise of one of the locals. Someone who knows this place like the back of their hand.” He said, raising his own calloused hand and flashing its backside in the air.

“Alright, sure. I ain’t doing much afterwards, anyways.”

Dean’s emerald eyes looked downright dangerous as he turned and said, “Then it’s a date,” before walking back out the door. 

Benny was somewhat impressed at Dean’s ostentatious and unpretending attitude. He might have fun with this one.

.

As the two men walked out of Charlie’s into the pale, moonlit night, Dean turned to Benny and asked, “Where are we going?”

“To a bar,” Benny answered in-step, eyes glinting with the streetlamps and a little of something else.

“Mmm,” Dean hummed in thought. 

“You asked me to show you around the town, so how could I do that without stopping at The Roadhouse?”

“Is it any good?”

“The best.”

When the two of them entered the bar, they were immediately greeted by Ellen. “Hey, Benny! It’s always good to see you! And it looks like you brought someone with you,” she ended, voice sinking lower. “You his date?”

“I guess you could say that,” Dean replied smoothly, taking an open seat at the very end of the bar. Ellen shot Benny a warning glance over Dean’s shoulder, and Benny raised his hands and mouthed, ‘I’ll be careful’. She closed her eyes in disapproval, and got Benny’s regular. He sat down next to his younger friend.

“I’ll just have whatever he’s having,” Dean called out, making her stop in her movements and grab a second glass.

“That’s Ellen.” Benny pointed out to his counterpart of slighter build. “She owns the place, works it with her daughter over there. ‘N that guy in the corner – yeah, it’s a mullet – is Ash. He does the accounting and is smarter ‘n hell. I swear.”

Dean nodded, surveying the tavern. He tipped back a considerable amount of the amber liquid Ellen handed him, and he hissed in satisfaction as if burned down his throat. “How long you been working here?” he asked curiously.

The two men fell into conversation effortlessly, talking about nothing and everything without giving away too much about themselves. Benny found out from Dean that snorting whiskey through your nose from laughing was not pleasant, and banging on the countertop tended to draw more than one evil glare from the patrons surrounding them. And, the most rewarding thing of all, he learned how to make him smile.

Dean Winchester was a free spirit. That was obvious the first moment he stepped through the doors of the diner, and that aura never left him. He had blazed into town in his classic ride, all leather and suggestive winks and enviable carelessness that came with a lack of responsibility. His presence was invigorating. Intoxicating. Benny wanted to take him all in, breathing heavily the scent of youth and alcohol and confidence, if it were possible. If he had any more to drink, the older man might’ve found himself attempting to sniff at Dean’s clothing. Now, that would be highly inappropriate, and Benny had enough sense to stop the flow of drinks while he still could.

Eventually, Dean excused himself to the restroom, and Ellen was on Benny in two seconds flat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked in her mom-tone, hands squarely planted on her hips.

“I’ll tell you what – I’m having a good time!” 

“But Benny, sweetie,” she started, face contorted into a look of concern, “You know he’s a drifter, right?”

“’Since the moment he walked into Charlie’s,” Benny confirmed.

“He looks like a heart-breaker to me. Or like he just wants in your pants.”

Benny leaned forward and said in his most consoling voice, “I’ll be careful. ‘Promise. Besides, you know I can take care of myself.”

Ellen eventually nodded, and was called over by a patron on the opposite end of the bar.

Dean returned not long after. “Here, brother,” Benny finally said, “Let me walk you home.”

“I’m staying at the Red Inn,” Dean replied, surprisingly un-slurred considering the amount of drinks he had (they had lost count).

“Jus’ around the block. Good.”

So they half-walked, half-stumbled out of the bar, giggling like children. Ellen rolled her eyes at them and yelled at their retreating backs, “Call the second you get back, or I’m gonna send Jo out there to find your sorry asses!” 

“’Kay, ma’am!” Benny shouted, and waved. Though he really wasn’t that old, Ellen’s nagging made him feel younger, like he was still in high school.

They wandered the darkened street in companionable silence, until they turned the corner and stopped in front of Dean’s door.

“You dating anyone?” Dean asked, not mincing words.

“Nope.” Benny popped the ‘p’.

“Good.”

Dean leaned in to kiss Benny, green eyes half-lidded and dark, when he stopped and pulled back a few inches. “I changed my mind. I’m not gonna do this. Y’know why?”

“Why?” Benny casually put his strong hands at Dean’s waist, keeping him in place.

“Because. I like you. And I want this to be more than just another one-night-stand.” Dean told the other man, words no doubt helped along by the alcohol pumping through his veins.

“Hey. Y’know what?” Benny husked in Dean’s ear. “I feel the same.” Not waiting for a response, he planted a chaste kiss to the side of Dean’s head and meandered back towards Charlie’s, where both of their cars were still parked.

.

Alongside his job at Charlie’s, Benny picked up hours at a boat-repair place from Tuesday through Thursday, so after their (not-so-smart) Monday-night escapade, Benny wasn’t able to do much with his new friend besides flirt at work and toss heatless insults at each other.

But on that Friday night, as they were closing up the restaurant, Benny stopped Dean on his way out the door. He didn’t know what made him say it, but say it he did. “Want to come out on my sailboat with me tomorrow?”

Dean stopped in his tracks and turned to Benny. “I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, out here, it’s kinda required that you at least have a friend with a boat.”

“No kidding? In a fishing town like this?”

“So you in, or you out?”

Dean pondered this for a moment, pursing his lips almost comically. “Sure. Why the hell not?”

And that Saturday found the two of them far out in the middle of the bay, aboard the Andrea as she sailed in the wind.

As a particularly strong gust of wind ruffled his hair, Dean began to cackle. The corner of his eyes crinkled up as he bellowed his laughter. Benny couldn’t help sharing in his euphoria, grinning like a mad-man. 

And suddenly, Dean was in his arms, reaching to press his plush lips to Benny’s chapped ones. “Thank you,” he breathed, mouth breaking into another smile.

.

After their day out on the boat, the two were nigh inseparable. Dean became a subtly happier man for it, too. Benny could see it in how his posture was less stiff, his face brighter, and his smile more genuine. The blue-eyed man felt something stirring in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in years. And he decided to embrace it.

That next week, Dean began to wait for Benny after his shift at his other job ended, and they walked back to either Benny’s place or Dean’s motel room. Saturday’s out on the water became a regular event, one Benny looked forward to every week. They fell into an easy rhythm, talking about nothing and trading kisses and just living in each other’s space. It was comfortable, and it was the most affection Benny had expressed or received in a long time, and he could tell it was the same for Dean.

Things remained easy and uncomplicated between them for about a month. Then, one Saturday night, they stumbled back into Benny’s house, and one kiss turned into several, and several turned into a tangle of sweaty arms and legs and the sharing of breath underneath a thin sheet, bare to the hot summer night. When they finally came down from their flights of ecstasy, it was to the sound of each other’s names, and to the feel of their hands holding tightly to the other, afraid to let go.

The next morning, Benny awoke to the sound of soft raindrops falling against his windowsill. The room was dark, save for the light escaping the drawn curtains. A car drove by the open window, and Benny was struck by how cold it was. He closed his eyes again. Then, he realized that Dean was climbing out of bed.

He reached out and grabbed at Dean’s wrist, preventing him from leaving. 

“Benny.”

“Hmm.”

“Let me go. Please.”

Benny cracked open his eyes, and saw the conflicting emotions pass across Dean’s face.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” Benny asked using a pet-name, hoping to calm the younger man down. It didn’t help much.

“I…” he began. “I’m sorry. About last night.” And his eyes were so full of remorse, it made Benny’s heart break.

“Sorry about what, Dean? I knew what I was doing.”

Dean’s gaze shifted to the ground. He wore guilt well, like an old, familiar jacket. Benny, in that instant, came to a decision.

“It was a joint effort. And Dean,” he started, “Y’know, you can stay here, if you want. The motel bills mustn’t be too friendly, I imagine. And, even if you don’t want to…” he trailed off, pointing between them to indicate their relationship. “You can still stay. You’ll always have a place here, y’know that?”

Dean froze, mind working overdrive as he tried to comprehend what Benny had asked of him. He looked for a moment as if he were about to leave, but he closed his eyes and collapsed back onto the bed. Benny curled his arms around Dean, and the freckled man hummed his approval. 

Benny wasn’t stupid. He knew they were rushing things. They’d known each other for little more than a month, and they were already at this stage – the quickest it has ever happened in Benny’s whole life. They hardly know a thing about each other, which from an outside perspective, was a little disconcerting. But there was a simple kind of beauty in that – they enjoyed each other’s presence, unperturbed by either of their pasts.

.

It was accurate to compare Dean to the sea. The waves were restless, always moving with the ebb and flow of life. The shore was always changing, never the same each time you looked at it. But it was where Benny felt most at home, and he was just fine with that.

.

One steamy evening found them sitting in Benny’s - or their, actually – backyard, both with a beer in hand. They were quiet, simply relaxing. There was nothing needed saying at a time like that. 

After an uncountable length of time, Dean spoke up. “Nice patch of sunflowers over there,” he pointed to the gate with the hand holding the bottle, clasped between his thumb and forefinger. The plants in question were right next to the ancient gate, swaying lazily with the sea breeze. Their black tops pointed up to the sky, yellow petals framing their bulbous faces. They seemed to wink at the two men, dark eyes temporarily covered by the movements of the others, before reappearing again to say hello. 

“What, those? Yeah, I’ve always liked ‘em.”

“They… kinda remind me of my brother.” Dean admitted.

Benny was silent. Neither of them have ever breached that topic, and Dean rarely volunteered information. Normally, he had to be coaxed into sharing something through gentle conversation and easy glances. This was unheard of.

“My younger brother – Sam – has what we’d call ‘sunflower eyes’ – a type of hazel, y’know. And he’s a monster, too, like Sasquatch – size. I dunno, they just… remind me of him.” Dean picked at the label of his drink, trying to seem casual. But Benny had spent enough time with him to learn his signals.

He looked up suddenly, eyes glassy, and Benny takes his tanned hand in his own. The feeling of Dean’s palm pressed firmly to his grounded him, and he smiled inwardly. 

They fell silent again, accompanied by the sound of the cicadas and grasshoppers as they watched the sun bleed out onto the ocean before them while it slowly descended beyond the horizon. 

.

Benny Lafitte hadn’t realized how empty his house was until Dean moved in. It wasn’t just his stuff taking up space – the drifter hardly owned anything besides his car and what he could fit inside his duffel bag – but it was Dean himself that filled out the house. When he entered a room, he made it about 2000 times warmer, even with just a small, half-assed smile. And when he left, he took the life of the room with him, leaving it even more dull and dingy in his wake. 

Though Dean didn’t have many worldly possessions, and most were kept in their room (readily packed and within easy reach in case of a hasty exit), little reminders of his presence made the larger man’s heart flutter. Like when the green-eyed man flung his socks carelessly on the floor after a long day waiting tables, or when he left his toothbrush on the counter in the bathroom. 

For the first time in a long time, Benny wasn’t just content – he was happy.

.

One Sunday morning, Benny woke up to the sound of something frying on the stove below him. The smell hit him next – something sweet, with a fruity tang mixed in. Confused, the cook bumbled down the steps, only to find Dean in the kitchen with a batch of blueberry pancakes on a platter next to him and a spatula in his hand.

He turned around, and smirked at Benny. “Nice of you to wake up,” he jested. “’Thought I’d have to eat these all by myself!”

Benny’s mouth watered, and he walked up behind Dean and wrapped his arms around the other man’s midsection.

“Behave. Or you really won’t get to eat.” Benny could feel, rather than hear, the timbre of Dean’s voice enticing him more than the hotcakes. He buried his face in Dean’s neck, and sighed gently. 

Eventually, the younger man swatted Benny away, and said, “Sit! This is the only thing I can really make with flour, so I’m not gonna mess ‘em up!”

Benny sat down on one of the rickety stools, eliciting a groan and a half-hearted squeak from the aged wood, and he watched in wonder as Dean moved about the small cooking space. 

Benny was reminded of his mother, and how on Sunday mornings like this one, he would get to go to her bakery and have first pick at the delicious pastries. She moved quite like Dean – with the fluidity and grace of someone in their element, though her shoulders didn’t sag with the weight of the world like his did. Here, though, it was hardly noticeable. 

That was the moment when Benny realized how far gone he was. When he realized he’d like to see Dean messing around in his kitchen like this every Sunday, he knew. And although it should have scared him how easily he accepted the troubled man, it didn’t. He kept his thoughts to himself, but he smiled just a bit more warmly for the weeks to come.

.

For some reason, Charlie’s had become increasingly busy. More and more patrons had decided they wanted steamed crabs from the red-head’s diner, and they kept everyone busy. After a full week of being packed with clientele, Benny was ready for a day out on the ocean. 

Like every Saturday, he loaded his things into his beloved boat, and took a moment to breathe as he waited for Dean. The dock was a small one, populated with sail boats similar to Benny’s own, each worn and dirtied from age. Seagulls chattered in the air above him, and some pecked around the garbage cans looking for scraps. The air smelled of the sea, with the sharp salty brine and the faint, lingering odor of fish. The water was Benny’s first love, and had remained ever-faithful throughout the years. He couldn’t picture doing something different.

“We ready?” Dean called from behind him. 

“Ready as ever!”

“Could we go out a little farther this time?” 

At this, Benny chuckled. “Sure thing, Dean. We can go wherever you want.”

Dean gave him a grim smile, and they set off.

After a morning of fishing, they docked in one of the neighboring villages. It was a tourist hub, and accommodated a larger crowd than Benny’s hometown. The harbor was much larger, and filled with pontoons and speedboats and large sailboats. Passing by a bait shop on their way into town, Benny turned around and asked Dean, “D’you want somethin’ for lunch?”

Dean’s grumbling stomach was answer enough, and they spent the greater part of an hour losing themselves in the populated alleys and old townhouses. The roads were made of bricks, with historical buildings lining them dating back to the 1860’s. Eventually, they found a respectable pizza parlor 

After placing their order inside, the two men seated themselves at a table on the stone terrace outside, overlooking the pier. It was gorgeous scenery to behold, and Benny internally berated himself for not finding the city sooner. Looking to the man across from him, he could see that Dean’s large emerald eyes were wide and filled with amazement, taking in the rolling hills and sheer cliff-face that led right up to the water. The trees were a rich, vibrant green, blowing lazily in the breeze and accompanied the smooth, dark blue water like they were out of a travel magazine. 

After their drinks came, Dean breathed contently. “Y’know something?” he began, leaning back in his seat. “This is one of the best places I’ve ever visited.”

“Yeah, it is nicer than our town.”

“No – that’s not…” Dean struggled for words. “I mean, this place is nice, don’t get me wrong, but I mean like where I’m at right now. In terms of living. You understand?”

Benny quietly laughed, ignoring Dean’s blushing face and how he shook his head in discontentment. “I getcha, brother. Don’t worry a thing. And, to ease your woes even further, I’ll be the designated driver tonight.”

Dean sputtered, amber liquid dripping from his surprised lips as the bigger man grinned widely.

“Gah! What…?” The freckled man eventually just wiped his mess up with his tablecloth, and the two of them returned to their normal, easy conversation. 

After they ate their food and paid inside, Dean grabbed Benny’s hand. His eyes glinted with eagerness in the lamplight of the old town, excitement rolling off him in waves. Benny allowed himself to be dragged around, until they stopped in front of a record store. 

Dean pointed his thumb at it, and asked in a casual tone, “Wanna go in? I know I need to update my cassette collection.”

“Alright,” Benny conceded, even though he hardly listened to music, except what would come through on his radio while out on the Andrea.

They entered the shop, and Dean immediately began searching the racks, throwing comments at Benny left and right. He was trying to educate the less musically-inclined man on the finer points of mullet rock. Benny nodded and smiled. He was not listening at all to what Dean was saying, but instead was enraptured by the energy Dean exhumed, and how happy he seemed doing such a simple thing. 

Benny resolved to take him to that town as often as he could.

Eventually, after Dean purchased what he had found, they were kicked out of the store, and they found their way back to their sailboat. It was dark now, and they had really let the time get away from them. But Benny was a great sailor, and Dean had the utmost confidence that he could find their way back in the dark.

If sailing during the daytime was fun, doing it at night was exhilarating. The air was colder, and carried a sense of danger and adventure that wasn’t always present while the sun was out. Benny had wanted to wait a little longer before taking Dean out that late, but Dean seemed to be enjoying himself pretty well.

“Woohoo!” he cried as sea brine sloshed up the port side and slapped him in the face. 

He turned around, dripping wet, and suddenly it was like that first Saturday they spent together. The crow’s feet at Dean’s eyes strengthened with his smile, and he walked over to Benny. Paying no attention to the water, Benny drew him in, keeping Dean at arm’s length. “Thank you,” Dean said again, and leaned in. They shared a sweet, lazy kiss before Benny shoed him away as he returned to the helm. Dean laughed good-naturedly, and returned to his spot at the bow, his senses flooded with the night.

.

After that day, something shifted inside Dean. Benny didn’t exactly know what, though he did know his younger counterpart had changed. Dean become restless in the evening, asking to go out and do things more often than he usually did. At work, he was constantly moving, earning him the affectionate nickname ‘wiggleworm’ from Benny and Charlie both. He would stay out late, and leave early, avoiding spending much time in the house. 

.

One afternoon, while sailing around the bay, Dean said, “Drop anchor here.”

Benny complied.

The jade-eyed man lifted the heavy radio up onto a wooden bench, and put in a cassette tape. The music was switched on, and the cassette was scratchy in some parts, but neither paid it much mind. Dean, to Benny’s amazement, started to dance to the fast-paced tempo.

It was a wonder to witness, this Adonis moving fluidly with the quick beat, bowed legs swinging, tanned arms beckoning Benny to join him. Green eyes flashed seductively, and Benny couldn’t help but stand up too. 

Against his better judgment, the scruffy man began moving alongside his younger partner, snapping his fingers. Dean grinned, and turned on the spot before shaking from side to side. Benny joined him, and they both giggled like children. 

And then – as if he weren’t perfect enough – Dean began to sing. His siren-like voice carried over the singer’s on the recording, having memorized every word and note. When the track changed, the young man followed seamlessly, leading Benny. 

Two songs later, one Benny recognized came on. They were caught up in a rush of flailing arms and measured steps and lyrics belted out at the top of their lungs. It was more fun than Benny had had in his entire life – he was sure of it. 

Dean popped another cassette in, and they kept at it, stopping for the occasional drink between songs.

And then, as the sun began to set, a slower song came onto the radio. They halted in their movements, surprised by the change in tempo.

Dean reached out for Benny, and he rested their foreheads together. Dean began to sway lethargically, soothingly, and Benny followed suit. The piece did a number on Benny’s mood, and he felt somber as he looked out at the sun resting on the horizon.

“Nights like these…” Dean began, “nights like these make me miss my family.”

Benny nodded softly against the younger man’s temple. “Where are they?” he breathed.

“They’re dead, Benny,” Dean replied, his eyes closed against the reality of the statement.

“Is that why you wander, I wonder?”

Dean didn’t say anything. Benny understood. He knew, without a doubt, that Dean was afraid to get close to someone like that again. It was written in stone, a series of holes carved into his life with a dull blade. It hurt, Benny thought. It hurt so much.

When the music died down, he drew away and whispered, “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

And for some strange reason, that night with Dean in his arms and the windows open to let the late summer night’s air into the house, Benny fell asleep with a heavy heart.

.

When he woke up the next morning, it was to find Dean sitting up on his side of the bed, fully clothed. Blinking stupidly, Benny asked in a slurred voice, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m…” Dean started. He turned to look Benny right in the eyes. “I’m leaving.”

And even though Benny’s world had come to a screeching halt, he wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“This is the longest I’ve ever spent in one place. Because, y’know, this is the first time I’ve had any reason to stay.”

Benny nodded in understanding. “I know. That first day I saw you drive in, I knew you weren’t gonna be here long. And yet…”

“And yet,” Dean finished. His face was illuminated by the early Sunday morning, and Benny took his time memorizing every part of it.

They were quiet for a while.

“Come with me.” Dean broke the silence. “Benny, please come with me.”

The older man’s face conveyed the overwhelming sadness that had settled inside him. He didn’t need to say anything.

“You’re not coming,” It was spoken as a statement, for Dean already knew the answer.

“I’ve lived here all my life, Dean. This is my home.”

Dean smiled sadly, and something like longing passed over his face. And in that moment Benny knew that Dean never had a permanent home, or a place where he felt he belonged. Benny’s heart broke a second time for the younger man.

Dean looked up, and asked one last time, “Please.”

Benny’s eyes crinkled around the corners, and he said nothing. Dean sucked in a shaky breath, and pulled Benny into a desperate hug. Benny pretended not to notice the saltwater staining the front of his shirt, and instead gripped Dean’s clothes tightly.

.

Dean stood in the garden with his hand on the gate. The sunflowers he had come to love swished by his side, with the roaring ocean in the background.

“I’ll see you again someday. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Benny joked, voice coming out more breathy than jovial. It took everything in him not to drop to the ground.

Dean smiled his trademark smile, opened the gate, and closed it behind him.

He got into the Impala, and drove off towards the pier before swinging back onto the street that would lead him to the highway.

And he didn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! This was my first DeanBenny fic, so please let me know how I did! I take requests (not just for deanbenny, but other things too), and you can contact me on my tumblr at http://migrantdean.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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